


Claret and Waxen

by sirenofodysseus



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The slight smile on his face makes her wonder if she's not missing something entirely, all together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claret and Waxen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tromana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/gifts).



> Any dialogue within this piece is without quotation marks.

**I—**

 

He says she’s _sick_ ; that the sterile white clothing that reeks strongly of bleach and the plastic band wrapped tightly around her wrist are for her own safety. She doesn’t understand _how_ or _why_ , considering both items strip her of who she used to be; but she wears them without a complaint, anyway.

 

(In the very beginning, she put up more of a fight. She screamed, kicked, and argued, until she could no longer feel; and by then, her thoughts had become so sluggish that she had started to let them _think_ for her too.

 

You need to eat.

 

_If you say so._

 

Let’s get you dressed.

 

_Okay._

 

Let’s walk around. 

 

_Fine_.)

 

The plastic band has two numbers: 1854-1015814.  She has memorized them, repeated them in her seldom moments of isolation and she knows everybody _likes_ calling her 1854-1015614. And when he visits, he likes calling her that too; because her name is something that will apparently slow down her “recovery”.

 

(But she knows her name. It’s…it’s…it’s something that starts with a T. Tonya? Taylor? Tara? She tests each name on her tongue when she’s alone, but nothing sounds right, so she goes right back to calling herself 1854-105614. It’s the only thing that sounds right anymore.)

 

**II.**

 

He says she needs _help_ ; that the faint scar on her wrist was from a botched attempt to end her life. She doesn’t remember it; but her memories are a scattered mess within her own head. When he visits (and he’s not the only person who visits, who continues to tell her _to get better soon_ , he’s just the only person who quiets the quarreling thoughts in her head) he tells her that together, they will slowly fix the jumbled mess within her head.

 

(She believes him too. After all, why wouldn’t she? He’s the one who found her. He’s the one who saved her life. And in those brief moments where she starts to feel for herself again, she feels that she owes him everything and more.)

 

She doesn’t tell him or anyone else, but she tries to fix her own head when she’s left alone; sometimes, she lies in the near-dark of her small room and tries to recall the memories _before_ she woke up in a sea of all-white.

 

(She never remembers anything and maybe, she thinks, it’s better off that way.

 

Certain memories are too painful to remember. Some memories just never return.

 

And she likes to believe that she’s no different from anyone else, when in fact, she is and she has absolutely nothing in common with anyone else anymore.)

 

**III—**

 

He says she needs to _face reality_ ; that she’s never going to leave her small white room, especially if she keeps pretending that she’s someone else. She tells him she doesn’t pretend on purpose; that the dreams she continues to have aren’t her fault, but he never listens.

 

(She thinks he doesn’t believe that she’s _trying_ to get better, but she really is trying. She takes everything they give her, does everything they ask her to do, and yet, he still views her with a glimmer of distrust. Does he really think that she wants to spend the rest of her life stuck behind four walls?

 

_I want to leave. Tell me how to leave. Please tell me how._

His continuous silence is her only answer, until they drag her—shouting _please_ at the top of her lungs—from the room.)

 

Eventually, she stops trying to fix her own head; after all, she thinks without a shred of hope, what’s the point? And when she goes back to _only_ being 1854-1015614 again and her delusions fade into nothingness, she briefly mourns the loss of the strong and beautiful woman that she had once dreamt herself to be.

 

(But the smile on his face is worth it, she thinks with an equally bright smile.)

 

**IV—**

 

He says he _needs_ her help; that if she helps him, she’ll be free to live her own life again. She eagerly agrees, ready to leave the all-white behind for a sea of new colors and he hands her a new set of clothes.

 

(She almost cries. It isn’t white. It’s everything _but_ white and it makes her blissfully happy.)

 

She changes in front of him and she lets him stroke her bare skin; his dry fingers against her breasts _make_ her feel again, but she doesn’t dare ask him for more. She’ll only give when he asks, and he hasn’t asked her to do more in such a long time.

 

He slowly pulls away from her and instead of mourning her lost dream; she mourns the feeble loss of his warm touch, until he places the soft, red material against her skin. She tells him she can do this herself; but he ignores her and she watches him fasten _every single_ black button on the scarlet shirt.

 

( _Where are we going?_

 

We’re going to visit an old friend of mine, 1854-1015614. He works at the CBI; do you know what that is?

 

_No._

The slight smile on his face makes her wonder if she’s not missing something entirely, altogether.)

 

**V—**

 

He says she loves him; that what she’s about to do is _for him_ and _him_ only, as he hands her a knife.

 

(She agrees, because _why_ would he lie? He saved her life and he’s taking her away from the sea of endless white; she’ll do anything for him, as he long as he keeps to his side of the bargain.)

 

He wraps his arms tightly around her stomach and in her ear; he whispers what she needs to do.

 

She nods at his instructions, because she feels that this is the only way out.


End file.
